Find Me Where the Water Ends (So Close to You) (16 page)

Chapter 18

M
ary
crosses her legs, and the blue shirtwaist dress she’s wearing falls across her knees. She is sitting on the cream-and-yellow stuffed couch in the den, and as she leans toward me the tea in her cup sloshes against the rim, threatening to spill over and onto her lap. “We didn’t think we’d see you again. I had completely given up on you, but then—”

She’s cut off by Mrs. Bentley, who comes into the room holding a tray of small cookies. “Real sugar and butter.” She smiles at me. The lines around her eyes are deeper than I remember, and her dark-red hair has a touch of gray at the temples. “Now that the fighting in Europe has ended, we’re getting some rations back.”

“Thanks.” I take one from the tray, realizing that I haven’t eaten—or slept—since I was hiding in the dark in the back of the banana truck. I swallow the butter cookie whole and reach for another. The chair I’m sitting in is old and soft and I sink back against it, trying not to close my eyes.

“Oh, you’re exhausted!” Mrs. Bentley sits in the chair adjacent to mine and looks at me with concern. “Your trip must have been grueling, Lydia. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap?”

Mary waves her hand dismissively. A drop of tea flings out of her cup and lands on the coffee table. “She can’t sleep here; it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?” I sit up again. “Should I find somewhere else to stay? I don’t want to burden you.”

“Nonsense. Of course it’s not that.” Mrs. Bentley nudges the cookie tray toward me and I take another one. “But you’ll be eager to get settled on your own, I’m sure. Where is your man, anyway? Why isn’t he with you?”

I feel the heat rise in my face, my cheeks staining with color. “Well, that’s—”

“Lydia!” Dr. Jacob Bentley is standing in the doorway. I get up from my seat as he approaches me with both hands held out. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

His fingers are warm and dry in mine and he squeezes once before letting go.

“Dr. Bentley.” I smile and sit back down in my chair. “It’s been so long.”

He moves next to Mary on the couch, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses as he takes a seat. Like Mrs. Bentley, his dark hair has a bit more gray in it, stretching along the side of his head and down into his short beard. “You’ve returned, and the news is reporting that Hitler is dead. It’s a good day.”

“We’re not sure it’s true yet, though,” Mrs. Bentley says. “There are rumors he might be faking it, since he knows our troops are closing in on him.”

“Don’t worry, it’s true. Hitler’s dead.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to process them.

Mary moves forward in her chair. “How do you know that?”

“I mean, I’m sure it’s true. . . . I want to believe it’s true.”

Dr. Bentley nods. “You were in Europe, weren’t you, Lydia? We heard you followed your fella overseas for a while. Do you have any adventures to tell us about?”

“Um, not quite,” I hedge. “I’m more interested in your family. How have you all been?”

No one speaks. Even Mary is silent, her knuckles white against the delicate china of her teacup.

I press my lips together, realizing my mistake.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I shouldn’t have . . .”

“Oh, don’t be sorry.” Mary rests her cup back on the tray, then reaches over to take my hand. “It’s just that Dean went missing last year, around the same time. We’re all not . . . well, it’s been a real hard time.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeat. “Dean was . . . kind to me.” I glance down, remembering the last time I saw him at that hotel in 1989. He didn’t recognize me then, and he wouldn’t recognize his family now. The Project stole everything from him. But of course I can’t tell the Bentleys that.

“He was always a good boy.” Dr. Bentley clears his throat and reaches for a cookie. “It would be easier if we knew what happened to him. It’s the wondering that makes it hard.”

“It would be hard either way,” Mrs. Bentley whispers.

Mary squeezes my hand and then lets go, reaching up to wipe at the corners of her eyes. “I’m being a real pill these days, Lydia. I just can’t seem to stop crying.” She forces herself to smile, her teeth white against her signature red lipstick. “I’ll just go take a powder. When I get back we’ll stop talking about all this unpleasantness.”

Mrs. Bentley watches Mary closely as she leaves the room. Dr. Bentley sits back with a sigh. “Mary isn’t taking it well.”

“She and Dean didn’t always get along,” Mrs. Bentley adds, “but she secretly idolized him. She can’t seem to move past it.”

I think back to something my grandfather said, about how his aunt Mary was never the same after she lost her brother. It’s why she eventually left town with her husband and almost never returned to Montauk. “Is Lucas helping at all?” I wonder.

The two exchange a glance. “Perhaps Mary should tell you more about that.” Dr. Bentley dusts the crumbs off his hands and stands up. “I need to get out to the hospital for a few hours. But I’m glad you’re back, Lydia. Mary sure missed you. Losing both you and Dean at the same time . . .” He shakes his head. “Anyway, maybe you’ll be able to reach her. We certainly haven’t been able to.”

“I’ll try,” I promise, though I know I don’t have much time.

I’m glad to see the Bentleys, but I can’t lose sight of what I need to do. I will no longer be able to infiltrate the Facility by trying to apply for an assistant position—the TM is already up and running, and I can’t spare the few months it would take to get a job there. That means I’ll need to do a hit-and-run mission, stealing into the Facility at night and destroying the TM and Tesla’s notes without getting caught.

But everything is different now. If I don’t have enough time to help Mary before the mission, I can do it afterward. I’ll have the Bentleys in my life again.

Before, I thought I would be stuck in the past forever, with no one who remembered me. But now if I succeed in killing Faust and ending the Project, I will not be trapped here without a family. I will not be alone.

Mary appears in the doorway again as Dr. Bentley moves to leave the room. He touches her shoulder as he passes and she smiles up at him, though we can all see the dried tear marks on her cheeks.

“Lydia, get up!” She waves her hand at me. “There’s someone you just
have
to see. You are going to flip your wig, I swear it. I’d tell you who it is, but I’ve decided that it’s going to be a surprise, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

“Thank you for the tea,” I say to Mrs. Bentley as I stand.

“We’re so glad you returned.” Her voice is soft and serious. “Our house is your house, you know that, Lydia.”

“Come on!” Mary bounces over to me and grabs my arm. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face.”

I smile one last time at Mrs. Bentley before Mary pulls me from the room.

I follow behind Mary as we walk along the paved road that leads to the north part of town, where the navy set up their own base near Fort Pond Bay.

“Jinx is still working in the factory, and Mick’s coming home in a month or two. Suze is over the moon. He wrote her every week, just like he promised; isn’t that swell? Sometimes the letters would come in a big batch, twenty at a time, and Suze and I would read them for days. Billy wrote to me too, sometimes. But then . . . the letters stopped.” She turns her face toward the rough pavement.

I picture the young man dancing with Mary on the sand, laughing as they spun in circles. “What happened?”

“He died overseas.” She lifts her head and her eyes are wet again. “German sniper, we heard. It’s just awful. His sister was the year below me in school and she hasn’t spoken a word since they found out. Ma and I baked their family a cake—we used real sugar, even though supplies were low, but there was no other choice, obviously—and brought it by a few months ago, and their whole house was stuffed with food from neighbors. Isn’t that nice? We could barely fit it in on the counter.” Her voice drops. “Though half the women sitting in the parlor clucking like old hens were those fuddy-duddies from church who always whisper about Mr. McDonald, Billy’s dad, being a philanderer. He
is
one, everyone knows it, but still.”

She spins around and starts walking backward in her scuffed saddle shoes. It is chillier the closer we get to the ocean, and I rub my hands together, wishing my dress had longer sleeves.

A grayish-blue navy jeep passes and Mary waves. The soldiers honk their tinny-sounding horn at us, but don’t stop.

“I’ve been talking your ear off, haven’t I?” Mary asks once it has disappeared farther down the road. “It’s just that Suze is so busy setting up house for Mick, and I’ve been so lonely lately.”

“What’s going on with Lucas?” I ask. “When I left it seemed like something might happen between you two.”

She smiles quickly. “Lucas is keen on me. Who would have guessed it? He’s been coming around on Sundays for dinner, and he takes me to the movies or dancing on Fridays. You know I’ve been stuck on him for years, ever since De—” She takes a quick breath. “Lucas is getting discharged soon, and I know he’s gonna ask me to marry him. He wants us to go live on his farm in Georgia with his sisters.”

I look sideways at her. “Aren’t you excited? You don’t sound it.”

Mary shrugs. “Georgia? It seems so far away. And how can I leave Montauk? Especially now.”

I speed up a little until we’re side by side. “You don’t want to leave because of Dean.”

She doesn’t answer. I hesitate, glancing over at her profile. Her red hair is in short tight curls, her skin glowing pink in the afternoon sun. “Mary, I don’t think Dean’s coming back. Be happy with Lucas. If you want to go with him to Georgia, then you should.”

She tilts her head at me, her mouth twisted to the side. “It’s a nice thought, Lydia.”

I start to speak but she cuts me off, her voice bright again. “Can you picture me as a farmer’s wife? The thought of waking up at five just to milk cows.” She gives an exaggerated shiver, her shoulders wiggling up and down. “I’d have to get rid of all my dresses. I’d probably never even do my hair again. I’d be too busy chasing after chickens.”

I try not to laugh. “You’re a nurse, aren’t you? I think you can handle a few cows.”

“Easy for you to say, when you’re not the one shoveling manure for a lifetime.” She bumps into me on purpose, locks our hands together and swings our joined arms back and forth as though we’re little kids.

This time I don’t bother trying to hide my laughter as I pull away.

She laughs too, though the sound quickly dies away when she glances over at me. “I’m so glad you’re back, Lydia. If only you had been here a year ago. It would have made things easier. But you just disappeared. I never even heard from you.”

There is enough accusation in her voice for me to stop walking. I turn to face her. “I’m sorry I left so suddenly. I didn’t mean to abandon you. I know I don’t have a great explanation, but the truth is that I couldn’t help it.”

She folds my left hand in both of hers. “I know. You had a man to follow. I understand, I do. I just wish you’d been here.”

“I missed you,” I say. “This year . . . it hasn’t been easy for me either.”

“And here I’ve been blabbing away, not asking about you at all.” She squeezes my hand. I reach out and touch her shoulder, my fingers brushing against the soft wool of her sweater.

She turns to look up the road. “If we weren’t in a hurry, we’d sit right here in the dirt and I’d make you tell me everything. You’d have to spew your guts out. But you’re back now, and we’ll have plenty of time later. We’ll talk for hours and hours and hours, don’t worry.”

I smile and follow her as she starts walking again. I’d bet anything we’re going to Susie’s house, a small cottage near the ocean, or maybe we’re visiting Jinx, just home from her day at the factory.

We finally reach the top of the hill, and I see the wide bay spread out in front of us, deep blue and shining where the sun hits it. To the left is the naval base: small seaplanes are floating in the water, while men in blue-and-white uniforms stand in groups along the shore. Some are talking and smoking cigarettes, while others kick at the waves.

“It’s nice to see, isn’t it?” Mary asks. “Just a few months ago they were rushing around, training the new soldiers, or blasting torpedoes out into the water. The booms would shake the whole town! But now they’re just goofing around. It makes me think the war truly is over, or close to it.”

“It is. It’ll be over by the end of the summer,” I say.

“What are you, a fortune-teller?” She smiles. “From your mouth to God’s ears, Lydia.”

She steers me in the opposite direction from the navy camp, where several one-story houses sit next to larger wooden buildings advertising for bait and tackle and fresh fish. A group of older men are standing around a beat-up truck with high, rounded hubcaps. Mary waves as they watch us approach. “Hiya! Heard Mick’s coming back. Suze is real excited.”

A grizzled man leaning against the rusted-out bumper nods. “Yup. Back on the sixteenth of June. ’Bout time, too, need him on the lines.”

“Mr. Moriglioni, there are more important things than fish, you know!”

“None come to mind.”

Mary laughs, and the men join her.

“Old man Moriglioni is a real gas.” She clutches my arm, leading me down a dirt road that is quickly narrowing. It looks more like a bike path now, with long grass shooting up out of the middle. There aren’t many houses around us, and the beach to the left is becoming rockier and steeper. Up ahead I see where the cliffs start forming, growing taller and taller until they eventually reach the lighthouse at the point.

“He’s as crusty as stale bread, but he knows all kinds of dirty jokes that he’s always telling Mick . . . who then tells us of course. It’s hard to even keep a straight face around him. Oh, we’re here!”

She pulls on my arm and we leave the road to follow a grassy, beaten-down path. It winds toward the beach, and stops at the door of a one-story shack made of battered blue and gray boards. The roof is slanted to the side with a bent black chimney sticking out of the top. There’s a window in the front next to a wooden door, but I cannot see into the shadowy interior.